Not All That Glitters is Gold Not All That Shines is Latex
by GevanniGreenwood
Summary: A promiscuous Villain and aspiring Pro-Hero get tangled in a messy affair.


The orange glow of evening lights flicker down in the streets of London, England. High above the bustle of cars and shoppers, a hero in a golden mask speeds through the air from rooftop to rooftop, searching. Focusing his supernatural quirk, the hero's speed slows unnaturally as he lands, before again leaping high into the air with a burst of momentum. His nimble feet rebound off pavement, wall, and billboard with ease. Rounding a street corner, he hangs off the ledge of a hotel complex, finally spotting who he is looking for.

Three men jostled the crowd, jogging nervously towards a narrow side path that will lead them towards the London service tunnels. The hero grinned. _That wasn't smart of them! _Observing a split-second longer before taking action he noticed; they held their belts and coats with care, like they were concealing weapons. _An ambush it is then. _

Leaping across the street and up onto a ledge above his criminal targets, the masked hero kept in step as he formulated a plan of attack. His tactical mind working fast he dives, ricocheting off a second storey wall at high speed before landing softly, ready, behind the brawniest of the three. Already summoning stored energy into his fist through his quirk, he aimed for the man's podgy gut and punched, letting a devastating blow fling the man into the back of his companion.

_'AAAARGH!_'

The two entangled bodies skidded to a halt against a large dustbin with a metallic pang. Realisation dawned on the man leading the trio as he turned to see a mask glaring back at him. He reached for his gun, but the hero had already raised his hand, grinning. A flash of bright light pierced through the man's eyelids, blinding him. Howling with rage, he aimed the gun wildly in the direction he last saw the grinning masked face, but before he could fumble the trigger; a thumb and forefinger gripped suddenly on his wrist. His sense of balance vanished as he was thrown to the pavement, hard. The finger and thumb twisted, and his weapon clattered away across the pavement.

"Jesus that _hurts!_" he growled, staring blindly at the ground as his wrists were bound together with restraints. As they clicked closed, a warm and almost sympathetic voice answered him -

"Sorry mate, I gotta take you in."

The hero lifted the man to his knees and began to restrain his dazed companions. He then stood tall, pushing the crop of blonde hair from his sweaty face. He spoke confidently into a concealed earpiece - "Officer Loh? It's me, I've got them. Pickup would be _grand~✰_"

Ten minutes later, the alley was filled with flashing blue siren light as the man named Loh descended on the scene. Three wanted men sat on the curb, dazed and handcuffed, whilst the tall blond hero stood over them. As Loh approached, he was handed three handguns and noticed-

"All fake!" the young hero interjected, putting some space between them and the criminals. "Checked them for ID, nothing either."

Loh clasped his colleague's shoulder. "Don't worry too much about it G, I'll get them to sing. They've been pulling this stunt for weeks." He placed the guns into a clear evidence bag and began to direct other officers to lead the arrested criminals into cars. "I've gotta ask you one more favour."

He nodded towards the street entrance, where people clambered to point phone cameras towards them. A member of the London press argued with a flustered officer. The blond hero stared, his expression unchanged. "Want me to chat to them?" Loh wove his arms together tightly. "If you could. This is your sixth this week, enjoy the attention for a bit _at least_." The hero chuckled at this, conceding easily. "Alright, call me if you need anything, I'll be patrolling most of the night."

"You got it" Loh waved nonchalantly as the hero turned to leave. "Take it easy G." The hero grimaced knowingly, taking a deep breath and striding proudly towards the entrance.

"_IT'S GOLDEN GUY!"_

A group of avid teens flashed phone cameras in the hero's direction as he stepped out of the alley. He beamed at them as he tapped the flustered reporter on the shoulder. "I can give a statement, if you'd like one?" The short woman turned, returning his smile. "Ah-yes! That'd be, yes, that'd be great!" She turned, indicating for her cameraman to roll and began. Her interviewee followed suit, looking into the lens with calm interest.

"Breaking; up-and coming Pro Hero _Golden Guy_ has appeared to have aided the police in _another_ successful arrest, adding to his streak!"

Golden Guy chuckled, flattered. "Please, call me 'Guy' or 'GG' for short! And yes, I stepped in to help Officer Loh's squad locate and subdue three assailants. They're in custody now." The reporter allowed him to finish, then pressed on -

"You're on fire recently, climbing the Euro✰Hero rankings pretty quick! Thinking of going for No. 1?" She smiled expectantly as Golden Guy rubbed the back of his shaven head, embarrassed. "Ahhh I'm just trying to do what I can, anything I can! Any recognition is a welcome _bonus!"_

The reporter considered his answer with a nod, then reeled off another perfectly prepared question; "Hows being away from Japan?"

_This was digging for more personal details_ he thought. Golden Guy paused to consider, then went with his usual jovial answer; "It's nice being back home, I really want to go the distance here as I did there, in Japan! Guess I'm just trying t'focus on the positives!" He finished the performance with another smile, smushing his freckled cheeks. He felt like the reporter sensed his veiled lack of enthusiasm and, instead, asked him about something he was genuinely interested in;

"Some have given you the epithet '_Shining Hero_', what does that mean to you?"

Golden Guy grinned, almost blushing. "Well there's the obvious!" He indicated the glow coming from his hair and they both laughed.

"Nah but really, what I'm going for as a Hero is attempting to encompass everything I've learned. Change and conflict is inevitable, so here I am trying to adjust, do my best, do anything I can really! That's more about accountability!" Enthusiasm radiated from each word, Golden Guy was in his element.

"Accountability?" the reporter repeated back, pushing him to elaborate.

"Responsibility, decisiveness-" Golden Guy indicated with his hands, grasping at a visual. "I'm rambling. It means anyone has the _choice_ to change, as I and many of the people I've met have!" He felt his chest fill with pride.

Before the reporter could follow-up, she was drowned out in Golden Guy's ear by a series of quick relays playing through his earpiece. A theft, and he was closest. Apologizing for mishearing, he grasped her hand in thanks.

"Cheers for the interview but I've gotta go, stay safe!" He turned casually and lept high into the air, rebounding off the narrow alley walls and gracefully onto the roof, disappearing into the misty evening.

Flustered by the sudden end to her interview, the reporter managed a smooth recovery. "There it is viewers, a look into the goals of a bright new star! And a sincere _thank-you_ to you Golden Guy, for always being diligent and ready to jump into action!"

There was a sharp _click _as a television set shut off, the soft crinkling of static is the

only sound in the dark and unnaturally quiet room where it's housed. The owner of the dark room sits across from the television, her hand on the remote in a vice grip. Dark tresses of witchy black hair covers parts of this woman's face, beneath which her deep brown eyes fixes ahead in a fierce glare.

The dark corners of the world know this woman as Crazy Eight.

'Eight' is for the creatures she is associated with.

'Crazy' for how she conducts her business.

Eight sits still, processing the interview she just had the pleasure of watching. The smiling face of Golden Guy plastered across her mind's eye. _The 'Shining' Hero? Well, the brighter the light the darker the shadow._ No person with that sickeningly sweet of a smile had nothing to hide, she knew that all too well.

The squeak and squelch of latex rubber interrupted the silence as Crazy Eight stands, her hands balled into tight fists. Her dark suit matched her living space as it curved into vicious points and made shapes across her body that no good-spirited person would want displayed. More sounds of rubber are made as she tosses the remote onto the floor and crosses the room to her laptop. The machine looks small and unassuming but Eight went to long lengths to ensure its ability to go wherever she wished on the web without being noticed.

Cobwebs littered the otherwise organized and clean desktop. She sits in front of the screen and at first does nothing. She folds her fingers and rests her chin on her hands, thinking. From a black corner behind the computer a spider crept out slowly. Her eyes dart immediately to the tiny creature and it halts just as quick.

"I didn't call for _you_."

Crazy Eight's words are said with as much slick viciousness as her clothing. Without a second thought she flattens it with the palm of her gloved hand. After scraping the arachnid's remains off on the corner of the desk, she clicks the computer to life. The Hero, Golden Guy, definitely has a shadow and she is determined to bring it to light. In order to do that, she has to do research first.

Eight's eyes scans the pages about Golden Guy. Apparently not too much is known about the hero save for some factoids. Six foot and one inch tall, twenty-seven years of age, he was born in England, and his current relationship status is:

_Single_.

Eight's brow furrows.

_Pity. Things go so much better when they're attached.  
Well, better for me, anyways._

After perusing the internet for a few hours, Eight succumbs to her increasing annoyance at the countless Golden Guy fan pages and shuts her eyes. She leans back in her chair, reviewing what she had found out in her head. She sifts through the rumors and the bullshit and saves them, just in case, in a separate part of her memory. She'll have to keep a close watch on him. A target that works on the other side of the globe is inconvenient, but she's done it before. She sits back up and scrolls to a picture of him. She nibbles on her fingertips in anticipation as a wicked smile appears on her lips.

_Oh, the things I have in store for __you__, shining hero of mine. I can't wait to watch you crumble in my fingers!_

"Gevanni, we're heading to Fogg's, wanna come?"

The man named Gevanni Greenwood looked up from his laptop. Billy Wetherstone - _otherwise known as pro Hero 'Warper' _\- was beckoning him towards the door of the Hero Office, as he and a handful of his sidekicks pulled on jackets and closed their lockers.

Gevanni, still in the guise of his Golden Guy costume, shook his head. "Sorry, gotta send off bare debriefs" He waved apologetically. "I'll see you at the weekend!"

Billy lobbed a ball of paper at him, which warped unnaturally into a globbed mess as it hit the wall just behind Gevanni's desk. Billy pointed an accusing finger at his collegue. "You need to mellow out mate, you've been on the clock since-"

"Yeah-yeah-yeah I got it _thanks!_" retorted Gevanni, trying to avoid the uncomfortable topic altogether. "Who're you my Nan?"

Billy rubbed his head in exasperation. "Shut it, I'll see you tomorrow." He closed the door behind him, leaving Golden Guy alone in the office once more. Finishing his reports, he slips his laptop into his bag and peered into the office at the end of the hall. Pro Hero Wize-Woman was surveying a map of islington, no doubt on a case. He knocked on the window gently -

"See you later boss!"

"Get some sleep Guy" she responded curtly, by way of goodbye. Her gaze didn't move from the map. Golden Guy strided up the stairs to roof access, of which the _Team-Wize Hero Agency _had many. Summoning stored energy into his feet, he crossed the metal grates leading to a platform and leapt high into the air, the night sky stretching above him. It was only now, after the realisation of almost eleven hours of working, that he could really feel the weight of his tiredness. He yawned as he landed softly on top of a theatre, changing direction and soaring through the air towards the familiar route of home.

A dozen rooftops later, he reached _Deptford Bridge_ station and ran along the trains flyover towards his warm apartment window, jumping smoothly upwards towards the fifth floor. He unlocked the balcony door and walked on through, not bothering to look at the clock as he passed it, he can feel the cold of early morning. That's enough for him.

The clock was the only thing on the otherwise blank walls of his flat, all the rest of his things were in boxes on the floor. The emptiness causing a stark juxtaposition to Golden Guy's warm and bright persona. Though now, with the door shut tight behind him, he blended into his surroundings as he walked through the drab living space.

Gevanni dumps his bag and unbuckles his utility belt, laying it on the back of the sofa in the bare living room before he sits down, removing his gloves and inspecting them. Seeing nothing, he places them on the coffee table in front of him and then proceeds to untie his boots. After he removes them he digs in a petite metal suitcase next the sofa, retrieving a high-grade shoe care kit and placing it on the coffee table. With a silent determination, he begins to use the brush to remove any scuffs and tweezers to get rid of debris that may have lodged itself into the boot. After he's satisfied he places the boots down next to the table and grabs the belt hanging on the back of the sofa. Gently and carefully, he swaps the empty energy cartridges with new ones, places the emergency contact phone on recharge, checks the sets of handcuffs, flashbangs, smoke-grenades, and first aid kit, swapping whatever is necessary using the supplies from the suitcase. He then places the belt neatly on one side of the table, next to his gloves.

With most of his accessories taken care of, he stands and sheds his Golden Guy uniform. He inspects it closely, making note of any rough or thinning areas to have patched as quickly as possible. Some of these he fixes himself, with a patch kit that he keeps along with his supplies. The sunlight begins to creep through the curtains. When he's done caring after his suit he lays it out flat among his other pieces of gear, clasps undone, ready for him to put on at a moments notice. Only after this acute work has been done, he removes his mask tied around his head and puts it on top of his suit. The eyes underneath the mask lens' are racked with fatigue, and are barely open.

Gevanni places his phone on the coffee table on charge with two alarms, and notices a peculiar email - from the Crucible Pro Hero Agency. _Kurogane-sensei?! _He thought, surprised his old mentor would be reaching out! _Ah well, it's tomorrow's problem._ He dimmed the phone screen, leaning back on the sofa and stretched, his bones crack from a long day of heroism. He pauses one moment, then reaches down the side of the sofa and grabs a rolled blanket, slumping under it and shutting his eyes. His bed is only a few steps away, but he's used up everything he has cleaning the suit. Sleep claims him, almost instantly.

~End of Prologue~


End file.
